Pretzels, 1/1
Jun. 13th, 2011 10:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: Pretzels
Author: james
Rating: PG
Pairing: Eliot/Alec
Word Count: ~1500
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: written for elebridith for her contribution to walk n rock, and also for hc_bingo, square 'unrequited pining'
Summary: Eliot has never actually had to work at getting a date. Until now.
He didn't actually know why this was proving to be so difficult. Eliot scowled at the dishes he'd piled up in the sink, left over from the dinner he'd made. He'd carefully picked items for a menu to tempt someone used to eating sugar, preservatives, and Yellow Number 5. But all he'd got when he'd held out a plate was Hardison's distracted thanks, then the other man had sat at his laptop, plate mostly untouched beside him. Eliot had watched, and yeah, Hardison had eaten some of it, but he'd barely paid attention to what was on his fork. He hadn't even looked at it long enough to recognise the dishes Eliot had made.
Eliot had toyed with his own food, sitting across the table at what was supposed to have been -- well, it hardly mattered now, and when Parker and Sophie had come in and helped themselves to the rest of dinner, Eliot hadn't argued. Now he was alone in the kitchen, glaring at the dirty dishes and wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do.
He hadn't had to work this hard for a date in... forever. Usually all it took was the right kind of smile and not even asking the question, "Do you want to?" Sometimes his partner wanted to be chased and that was just fine with him, it was all part of the fun. But he'd never tried to pursue someone who didn't want to be caught, and Eliot was feeling more than a little stymied.
It wasn't because Hardison was a guy. Eliot had dated guys before, done pretty much everything from anonymous sex in a bath house to taking Evan out for six weeks, dinner and dancing and theater, before ever getting more than a kiss. Good times had been had by all, until now, when Eliot couldn't even seem to make it through the front door.
He'd been trying everything he could think of. He'd played that stupid fishing video game again, listening to Hardison talk about how nice the atmosphere was indoors and how much he didn't miss the bugs and dirt and actual fish. Eliot had kept his mouth shut, setting aside his lingering desires for sharing a tent and preferably even a sleeping bag, and didn't talk about how he liked being out in the middle of the woods with only the sounds of nature and the smell of an open fire or that getting away from it all was the point.
He'd even hunted up a video game he thought he might actually enjoy. But when he'd asked Hardison if he wanted to play, Hardison had shaken his head and said sports games weren't really his thing, but Eliot was welcome to borrow the big screen whenever he wanted.
So Eliot had turned to other things, like inviting him to a movie ("Man, I downloaded that a year ago. You want me to burn you a copy?") and complimenting his work, attire, and job skills all of which drew a sarcastic response or no response at all. Now he'd resorted to food. Not for the first time -- Eliot had been cooking for the team for some time, and it had been the first thing he'd tried when he'd decided to entice Hardison into saying 'yes.'. That first attempted romantic meal had been all of Eliot's best recipes, and, in retrospect, not anything he should have expected Hardison to enjoy.
So now he'd gone the other route -- going so far as to hunt down some of the kids who'd been fostered by Hardison's same Nana, and asking for recipes. All he'd gotten for his efforts was Parker and Sophie saying thank you and a sink full of dishes to wash while Hardison sat at the table, still, typing away at whatever held his attention.
Eliot sighed and dipped his hands into the hot water. He knew that if it had been anyone else -- well, not Parker, but Sophie or Nate that he'd been trying so hard to woo and got nothing in return, that it would be their way of politely turning him down. But Hardison was the sort of person who would come right out and say no, thank you.
Which meant either Hardison was more oblivious than even Parker when it came to interpersonal relationships, or that Hardison was simply so not interested that it wasn't occurring to him what Eliot was trying to do.
Eliot focused his attention on the soapy water, scrubbing hard at dishes that were already mostly clean from soaking. His ego could handle being turned down; it wasn't the first time someone simply hadn't been interested. But usually all that was on the line was a lost night of fun -- or an hour, depending on the circumstances. But it wasn't often that Eliot found himself...upset.
He knew why, he wasn't stupid, nor blind to his own emotions. He was still confused by them, because Hardison was so far from his usual type that he couldn't begin to figure out what was making him feel this way. Most of the time Hardison annoyed him out of his skull, driving him so crazy that he could barely see straight and all he wanted to do was strangle the other man.
Or grab him and kiss him senseless. Whatever the reason, Eliot knew exactly what he wanted. Unfortunately it looked more likely that he'd get to strangle Hardison than anything else.
Eliot finished washing up the dishes and set them aside on a towel, ignoring the dishwasher just below the counter top where they rested. Nate had asked him half a dozen times why he didn't use it before he'd finally given up on getting an answer he could understand. Eliot hadn't tried very hard to explain it, simple as it was. Washing up after gave him a few minutes to do nothing else. He could think, or just enjoy the time alone -- and it had always been his chore, growing up, from the time he'd been tall enough to stand on a chair and help. He'd always taken pride in never dropping a dish and breaking it. He could still hear his momma's laughter, remember looking up and seeing the way the sunlight from the window lit up her face.
It wasn't that he didn't think Nate would get it, but it really wasn't any of his business. So Eliot ignored him and put him off with nonsense answers, and as he dried his hands he thought about how happy his momma had always been, way back then, before his daddy had died.
Eliot looked up as someone stepped into the doorway, and he frowned as Hardison just stood there. After a moment, Eliot snapped, "If you want dessert there's ice cream in the freezer." He'd made it himself, a strong, rich vanilla with a bowl of strawberries in the fridge for topping. He didn't feel like sticking around to have any, himself, feeling more like going home and not thinking about what the hell he was going to do until he got over this stupid infatuation over a guy who barely gave him a second thought.
Hardison held up a pretzel, and Eliot wondered if someone had finally dropped Hardison on his head. "Did I ever tell you that I like pretzels?" Hardison asked, and he sounded sheepish, but he was looking right at Eliot, meeting his gaze like he wasn't saying something that sounded more like it should be coming out of Parker's mouth.
And Eliot suddenly remembered the conversation he'd overheard. Where Parker had been trying to tell Hardison how she felt, and Hardison -- more gently and carefully than Eliot would have thought possible, had let her down.
Eliot scowled, because he wasn't about to jump to any conclusions based on a piece of salted bread dough. Hardison stepped closer, still holding out the pretzel. He shrugged one shoulder, and smiled just a little, making him look equal parts shy and out to charm the socks off anyone in his path. "It's just that...somebody told me I might need to pay more attention..to other people. Who like pretzels."
Eliot rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, Hardison, if you want to ask me out, just do it."
Hardison just raised an eyebrow at him -- and yeah, so Eliot wasn't taking his own advice, but really, he'd been trying, making obvious moves that anyone normal would have known how to interpret. So sue him for falling for someone oblivious enough not to realise.
Eliot took a step forward and grabbed the pretzel from Hardison's hand, and, despite not really liking the things all that much, ate it.
Hardison gave him a grin. Eliot made a note, that next time he should probably just use a lot of small words, and save the gestures for after.
Author: james
Rating: PG
Pairing: Eliot/Alec
Word Count: ~1500
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: written for elebridith for her contribution to walk n rock, and also for hc_bingo, square 'unrequited pining'
Summary: Eliot has never actually had to work at getting a date. Until now.
He didn't actually know why this was proving to be so difficult. Eliot scowled at the dishes he'd piled up in the sink, left over from the dinner he'd made. He'd carefully picked items for a menu to tempt someone used to eating sugar, preservatives, and Yellow Number 5. But all he'd got when he'd held out a plate was Hardison's distracted thanks, then the other man had sat at his laptop, plate mostly untouched beside him. Eliot had watched, and yeah, Hardison had eaten some of it, but he'd barely paid attention to what was on his fork. He hadn't even looked at it long enough to recognise the dishes Eliot had made.
Eliot had toyed with his own food, sitting across the table at what was supposed to have been -- well, it hardly mattered now, and when Parker and Sophie had come in and helped themselves to the rest of dinner, Eliot hadn't argued. Now he was alone in the kitchen, glaring at the dirty dishes and wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do.
He hadn't had to work this hard for a date in... forever. Usually all it took was the right kind of smile and not even asking the question, "Do you want to?" Sometimes his partner wanted to be chased and that was just fine with him, it was all part of the fun. But he'd never tried to pursue someone who didn't want to be caught, and Eliot was feeling more than a little stymied.
It wasn't because Hardison was a guy. Eliot had dated guys before, done pretty much everything from anonymous sex in a bath house to taking Evan out for six weeks, dinner and dancing and theater, before ever getting more than a kiss. Good times had been had by all, until now, when Eliot couldn't even seem to make it through the front door.
He'd been trying everything he could think of. He'd played that stupid fishing video game again, listening to Hardison talk about how nice the atmosphere was indoors and how much he didn't miss the bugs and dirt and actual fish. Eliot had kept his mouth shut, setting aside his lingering desires for sharing a tent and preferably even a sleeping bag, and didn't talk about how he liked being out in the middle of the woods with only the sounds of nature and the smell of an open fire or that getting away from it all was the point.
He'd even hunted up a video game he thought he might actually enjoy. But when he'd asked Hardison if he wanted to play, Hardison had shaken his head and said sports games weren't really his thing, but Eliot was welcome to borrow the big screen whenever he wanted.
So Eliot had turned to other things, like inviting him to a movie ("Man, I downloaded that a year ago. You want me to burn you a copy?") and complimenting his work, attire, and job skills all of which drew a sarcastic response or no response at all. Now he'd resorted to food. Not for the first time -- Eliot had been cooking for the team for some time, and it had been the first thing he'd tried when he'd decided to entice Hardison into saying 'yes.'. That first attempted romantic meal had been all of Eliot's best recipes, and, in retrospect, not anything he should have expected Hardison to enjoy.
So now he'd gone the other route -- going so far as to hunt down some of the kids who'd been fostered by Hardison's same Nana, and asking for recipes. All he'd gotten for his efforts was Parker and Sophie saying thank you and a sink full of dishes to wash while Hardison sat at the table, still, typing away at whatever held his attention.
Eliot sighed and dipped his hands into the hot water. He knew that if it had been anyone else -- well, not Parker, but Sophie or Nate that he'd been trying so hard to woo and got nothing in return, that it would be their way of politely turning him down. But Hardison was the sort of person who would come right out and say no, thank you.
Which meant either Hardison was more oblivious than even Parker when it came to interpersonal relationships, or that Hardison was simply so not interested that it wasn't occurring to him what Eliot was trying to do.
Eliot focused his attention on the soapy water, scrubbing hard at dishes that were already mostly clean from soaking. His ego could handle being turned down; it wasn't the first time someone simply hadn't been interested. But usually all that was on the line was a lost night of fun -- or an hour, depending on the circumstances. But it wasn't often that Eliot found himself...upset.
He knew why, he wasn't stupid, nor blind to his own emotions. He was still confused by them, because Hardison was so far from his usual type that he couldn't begin to figure out what was making him feel this way. Most of the time Hardison annoyed him out of his skull, driving him so crazy that he could barely see straight and all he wanted to do was strangle the other man.
Or grab him and kiss him senseless. Whatever the reason, Eliot knew exactly what he wanted. Unfortunately it looked more likely that he'd get to strangle Hardison than anything else.
Eliot finished washing up the dishes and set them aside on a towel, ignoring the dishwasher just below the counter top where they rested. Nate had asked him half a dozen times why he didn't use it before he'd finally given up on getting an answer he could understand. Eliot hadn't tried very hard to explain it, simple as it was. Washing up after gave him a few minutes to do nothing else. He could think, or just enjoy the time alone -- and it had always been his chore, growing up, from the time he'd been tall enough to stand on a chair and help. He'd always taken pride in never dropping a dish and breaking it. He could still hear his momma's laughter, remember looking up and seeing the way the sunlight from the window lit up her face.
It wasn't that he didn't think Nate would get it, but it really wasn't any of his business. So Eliot ignored him and put him off with nonsense answers, and as he dried his hands he thought about how happy his momma had always been, way back then, before his daddy had died.
Eliot looked up as someone stepped into the doorway, and he frowned as Hardison just stood there. After a moment, Eliot snapped, "If you want dessert there's ice cream in the freezer." He'd made it himself, a strong, rich vanilla with a bowl of strawberries in the fridge for topping. He didn't feel like sticking around to have any, himself, feeling more like going home and not thinking about what the hell he was going to do until he got over this stupid infatuation over a guy who barely gave him a second thought.
Hardison held up a pretzel, and Eliot wondered if someone had finally dropped Hardison on his head. "Did I ever tell you that I like pretzels?" Hardison asked, and he sounded sheepish, but he was looking right at Eliot, meeting his gaze like he wasn't saying something that sounded more like it should be coming out of Parker's mouth.
And Eliot suddenly remembered the conversation he'd overheard. Where Parker had been trying to tell Hardison how she felt, and Hardison -- more gently and carefully than Eliot would have thought possible, had let her down.
Eliot scowled, because he wasn't about to jump to any conclusions based on a piece of salted bread dough. Hardison stepped closer, still holding out the pretzel. He shrugged one shoulder, and smiled just a little, making him look equal parts shy and out to charm the socks off anyone in his path. "It's just that...somebody told me I might need to pay more attention..to other people. Who like pretzels."
Eliot rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, Hardison, if you want to ask me out, just do it."
Hardison just raised an eyebrow at him -- and yeah, so Eliot wasn't taking his own advice, but really, he'd been trying, making obvious moves that anyone normal would have known how to interpret. So sue him for falling for someone oblivious enough not to realise.
Eliot took a step forward and grabbed the pretzel from Hardison's hand, and, despite not really liking the things all that much, ate it.
Hardison gave him a grin. Eliot made a note, that next time he should probably just use a lot of small words, and save the gestures for after.